


Mag-Pie

by SurrealInfection



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Moving On, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Racism, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurrealInfection/pseuds/SurrealInfection
Summary: Possibly a one shot? Its basically something I wrote in an attempt to knock the rust off for my main fic.Couldn't put it in tags for some reason but the reader has several Nick names and there are two side character OCs.She had a life full of dissapointments and had been stuck in a loop of repeating them over and over until one day the mountain opened up and she met 'him'.It all seemed downhill from there as things got better for her as she learned to trust again,To love again,That is until Sans ruined it, and she had to pick back up the piecesagain.(Tags are subject to change depending)
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	1. Bone Apple Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I've been gone a while. So uh....heres a piece that I thought up last night as I was working on Fulfillment. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Order for Magpie! Magpie, your order is ready!” 

It was easy to see that baristas were never given the credit they were due, as one in particular had to shout at the top of his lungs over the bustling crowd to be heard, his voice strained by the effort. He was forced to wave the hand that was holding a venti sized cup away from impatient customers that would try to swipe at it, too engrossed in their phones or conversations to pay proper attention to the actual name that had been called.

A woman, dressed for the cold weather in a long black tweed jacket, jeans, and hardy dark boots shouldered her way through the throng, earning a few scoffs from some of the more self important patrons, not that she paid them any mind. If they didn’t want to move then she would do it for them. It wasn’t her fault the nonce army refused to queue correctly, instead choosing to become a coagulation of arrogance in front of the counter assuming that others didn’t need to be there before they had their orders, regardless of the fact that people had paid before them. 

The pricks deserved to have been shoved out of the way. Anyone with a shred of common sense would know that a small coffee shop located near a college would be filled to the brim with the tired and emotionally unstable drones of society in desperate need for a pick-me-up. Coffee was sacred in those parts, so it was best for one to mind their damn manners and understand that the world didn’t revolve around their precious little existence. 

Once the woman had finally gotten to the counter, the scowl she had sported lifted into an understanding smile when she laid her eyes on the gangly red-haired man holding her beverage.

“Hey Jeff. Looks like those freckles haven’t gone away with how pale you’ve gotten.”

Jeff simply rolled his eyes, and shoved the hot cup into her gloved hands, a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “Says you Maggy. If those bags under your eyes don’t start sprouting luggage tags I’ll eat my apron.”

Maggy, as was the woman’s sub-nick name, short for the other nick name of ‘Magpie’, snickered whilst popping the top from her drink to inhale the sweet flowery scent of her special made tea. “Guess that’s why we don’t hate each other. The chronically tired have to stick together.”

Jeff snorted, and waved a hand at her. “Whatever floats your boat Mags.” He arched a thick brow at her as she made to act like she was scrutinizing her tea. “You know I have other customers right?”

“Yeah yeah. Just let me make sure it was made right. It’s my right as a loyal local to check for quality.” Her grin curled with delighted mischief as she heard the grumbling behind her start to grow. She took a slow, delicate sip of the golden beverage, unable to hide her appreciation as the golden liquid’s effects instantly began to lift the tension in her shoulders. “Pretty good.”

Jeff groaned when he looked over her head to see so many seething glares aimed their way. “Are you seriously going to stand there just to antagonize my customers again?”

Magpie chuckled darkly, and raised her voice to just above polite conversational decibels, “Absolutely! I wouldn’t be stuck here at the counter checking my drink if people knew how to fucking stand in a line, or tip their servers properly. I mean really,” She gave an exaggerated huff, “You and your staff work yourselves to the bone just to either be treated like shit, or like some sort of autonomous punching bag. Isn’t Suzy working to pay for her baby’s hospital bills? Poor dear works her tail off while having to worry about all that debt, and her infant on top of dealing with assholes who can’t get their noses out of their own asses to notice that other people exist for more than just their pleasure.”

During her tirade the grumbles had begun to die down, yet a few argumentative exclamations had been thrown her way. Magpie whirled on the crowd, her sharp judging gaze raking over each face, hers the picture of motherly disappointment. “Most of you are regulars. You should know better and do better. Now how about you line up and show some common fucking courtesy.”

Before the situation could get any farther out of hand, Jeff had leaned over the counter, an easy feat for his six-foot two height, and lightly cuffed his friend upside the back of her head. “Stop antagonizing.”

“But it’s every day man!”

“I know how you feel, and as much as I would love to tell the jerks off myself, there are actually people here that are just having a bad day.”

Maggy feigned a defeated pout, “Fine, but if I hear one more person scream at you or her, I’m gonna’ throw hands.”

“ And you’ll get thrown in jail for assault.”

The woman gave him a Cheshire grin, “Sounds like an adventure. I’ve never been on that side of the bars before. Might be fun.” She snickered, ducking swiftly to dodge the slightly damp hand towel the owner of the shop swung at her. 

“Get to your table ya’h gremlin. Get!”

“Okay okay!”

The crowed opened up for her to scamper her way to escape, most wanting to avoid the spitfire from spilling her obviously steaming drink on them. The grin on her face wouldn’t leave, even as she felt at least a dozen angry stares bored into her back.

Their ire was worth it in her opinion. She had opted to throw public politeness out the windows years ago, and was not about to pick back up on the habit of being socially acceptable any time in the future. In her eyes, it was a waste to allow bad behavior to go unanswered for the sake of “keeping the peace”. Thus when she saw people acting wrong such as cutting a long line, or treating a worker to a series of expletives and insults, she would call them out, every time.

Magpie hummed happily when she found her usual empty table. It was a beat all to Hell single seater that had been wedged in the tiny space between the door and the large café window. There was a reason many opted not to sit there, the cramped space forcing a person to awkwardly shuffle sideways between the tiny gap of the, oddly heavy, table and window in order to sit on the bare wooden stool set in the corner. 

No one knew why Jeff had put that table there, or chose to put what was most likely his old shop stool, in that corner. It clashed terribly with the rest of the café décor that was reminiscent of a classy modern minimalist style. The other tables were twice the size of hers and topped with faux black marble, their legs polished chrome. The chairs all had tall backs, and had been upholstered with some sort of felt like gray material that complimented the tabletops in contrast. The walls had been adorned with a few silver framed black and white photos of random shots depicting crumbling brick walls, old subways, or busy street ways from the 1920’s. The floor was of black, and white tile, set into different geometric patterns, the grout a sliver finish. 

The only places where one would find any real pop of color were at the front from the goods case, full of vibrant delicacies like fruit tarts, and the only plant in the building. On the tall ceiling an artsy chandelier like light fixture made of plumbing pipes and naked Edison bulbs hung. The structure had been spray painted black, where at the top a rather robust and stubborn set of vines grew via a planter wired to the fixture’s base. How that thing managed to survive, let alone thrive enough to send thin swirls of emerald tendrils to creep along the ceiling would forever be a mystery to her. In a way, the woman felt somewhat proud of the plant’s tenacity. 

Much like her, it had lived through a harsh environment, and continued to do so. 

Magpie mulled over that thought as she sipped at her beverage, the drink soothing her aches, whilst feeling her exhaustion slowly melt away. Like the vine, she had started as a small, fragile seed. She was a child with an unorthodox upbringing. She had felt stifled by rules, a good many arbitrary and dependent upon her mother’s fickle mood swings. Many of which oft went down into anger, with the child as the target outlet. 

It wasn’t as though her parents had been outright physically abusive, at least not every day. Sure she would have her hair pulled once in a while or be slapped across the face when her mother had found something ‘worth’ the discipline. She snorted softly as her hazy gaze roved over the churning crowd, the line seemingly never-ending. The wrongs her mother felt the need to correct physically were inconsequential. She remembered the words, “don’t give me that look”. They had always been followed by pain.

It was in her late teens that Magpie had stopped viewing her mother as the living embodiment of parental expectations, and took a long hard look at the older woman as a separate person, with flaws and all.

Her mother had been suffering, trying to hide it beneath pride. She treated her child as she had once been treated, while attempting to garner attention from society via painting an image of being the perfect parent based upon how well behaved her child acted. She loved to boast about her daughter, only to turn around and ask why Maggy had made her a liar when they were safe at home.

The woman had needed severe therapy. 

Her father would have made a move sooner, had he not been at work at the times her mother slipped into her bad habits, or been so blinded by his adoration for his wife.

It was years later that Magpie’s parents decided to go to therapy after the day their daughter had a major breakdown, screaming at the pair, before leaving to cut them off for a year.

When she had come back home to visit, her mother had changed, and her father had become more attentive. They still had their flaws, but they it was apparent that the two had worked hard to be better adjusted people. They were the happiest she could remember seeing them. 

Unfortunately the damage had settled into her psyche, forever to remain in their child, leading the once bubbly girl into unhealthy coping mechanisms and a compulsory need to please others lest she felt the crushing weight of worthlessness. It was a hungry pit inside her that demanded endless feeding, never to be satiated. 

Magpie spent most of her life feeling guilty for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, and latched onto people of whom showed even the slightest bit of kindness, or validation her way. It lead her into more than one shark tank, leaving the woman a traumatized, pathetic, wounded mess. 

Too scared of being hated to show anger.

Too frightened of her own internalized rage that could hurt others the way she was hurt.

Too mired in self-disgust at her own weakness to understand her own strengths, so she faked them.

In short, the woman was an utter mess, so much so that she had fallen into a well-known trap.

She sought validation through romance.

When that backfired spectacularly in the form of more varied ways of abuse , over and over again, she segregated herself from deep connections, unable to trust her own judgment.

Those were the years that she had earned the nick name “Magpie” having found herself a hobby of picking up, or buying interesting stones, the majority gem like or shiny in some fashion. She had a small satchel on her at all times, just in case she would find something interesting for her collection.

It felt therapeutic, but just barely. She was on the verge of mental collapse during those days, every false smile she wore leading her deeper into a mental hole.

Things changed when the mountain opened, taking the world by storm, and “he” shuffled into her life.

Magpie sneered down at her table as she remembered his name. “Sans”

He was just another in a long line of well intentioned mistakes. 

At first the skeleton monster seemed affable, lazy, but he had a charm to him that could place a whole room at ease. Even with how laid back he seemed, she could tell there was far more to the comedian than jokes. He wasn’t harmless, far from it, but she felt it hadn’t meant he was a malicious person.

At first.

Maggy had been on a volunteer binge at the city library. It was a bit of time after the monsters had been integrated, so finding a human surrounded by a ring of human and monster children was no strange thing. During a rousing round of reading the same children’s book for the twentieth time, the head librarian had taken her aside to help train a new volunteer to the group. 

Their name was Frisk and they were the adopted child of the Monsters’ King and Queen. The famous ambassador and child prodigy. They had chosen the library volunteer program for college credits for a degree that would help them with a possible future in social work. 

Before Maggy knew it, the tan, calm, short-haired kid had wormed their way into her heart, past all of her barriers. 

It was through Frisk that Sans had been introduced into her life, along with all of their other friends. There was the overly healthy and enthusiastic Fish woman named Undyne, her smaller, and adorable brilliant scientist of a mate Alphys, the impossibly tall yet blindingly sunny skeleton Papyrus (San’s brother), and of course their doting fluffy parents.

For a time, all was well. Maggy had started to come out of her shell with how welcoming the circle of monsters had been to her. They had gone above and beyond to ensure she knew she was invited to every family event. The screwy lot had taken it upon themselves to make sure she didn’t fall down a dark mental path. Sometimes, in Undyne’s case, physically removing her from her own home to go on some weekend vacation, or sleep over if she had holed herself up in her shabby little house for too long. Maggy had a suspicion that Toriel had seen right through her fake happy demeanor from the get go, and had a talk with her friends about it, if all the cinnamon-butterscotch pies sent to her house were anything to go by. 

The bunch had so much energy, that it had been a blessing when Sans stepped in if things became overwhelming, his calm demeanor a balm to her frazzled overstimulated nerves. 

It felt like no time at all when she and Sans had become close enough to feel like she had known him for years. They were able to read one another’s moods, and act accordingly on them. Sans pointed out her inadequacy issues, and she pointed to his PTSD. In the short of it, they helped one another through many long, teary nights, and shared in the weight of heavy secrets together. 

He was her rock, and she was his tree. When he had found that Magpie hadn’t the best living situation, her finances keeping her from having three meals a day, and knowing that she would resist any charity, he had given her the idea to make her weird little hobby into a business.

They worked on her website together, and shot ideas at one another over a burger and ketchup drowned fries at Grillby’s tavern. 

It was where her booming business had been born. “Maggy Magpie’s Nest”. It was an online shop full of nature art projects, wind chimes, hand made jewelry, incense, and her best sellers, rune stones. 

Her hobby of collecting odd shiny stones had grown to become an ever growing nest egg.

One with enough connections that she was the only certified human seller of magic glowing crystals, each carved with runes or fashioned into gaming dice. Of course she was not allowed to sell the stock in its raw form, as she had been informed by the cat and crocodile pair that were the Underground’s only reputable distributors, that were given allowances by the Royals. She could only sell the stones if they had been changed in some way, handled with a neutral or kind intent, and as such was perfect for her artistic inclinations. 

She had herself a stable income, her own business, and a growing self esteem that made her smile with more genuine joy as every day passed. 

It was all thanks to Sans.

It was also thanks to the very same skeleton that it all came tumbling down.

She had made a mistake believing in him and his benevolence. 

She had made the mistake of trusting him.

She had broken a promise to herself.

She had fallen in love with him. 

He was the ever smiling bastion of lies and the last person “Maggy the Magpie” would ever trust so deeply again. 

The woman closed her eyes against the glare of the midday sun as it passed through the windows directly onto her face, and chuffed softly at herself as she remembered the day her heart had been broken, her world view changed. 

It was an autumn night. The air was crisp enough to be fresh and the excitement of the coming holidays seasons could practically be felt in the air. Her favorite holiday had been fast approaching, and she had a plan in place to surprise a certain someone with her costume, and, hopefully, a well received confession. Her heart was all a flutter, as were the butterflies in her stomach when she had picked up her phone to San’s ring tone. He had asked to meet her next to the oak tree in her backyard. 

It was their favorite place to simply sit in one another’s company as they gazed up at the night sky and talked endlessly about nothing, everything, or merely with long stretches of content silence. It wasn’t often that he would ask her directly to hang out, the skele-man liking to just pop up out of nowhere to pester her, or, on more somber occasions, sit on her couch with a thousand yard stare while she took care of him after a bad nightmare or panic attack.

He hadn’t sounded at all unhappy on the phone, in fact he seemed somewhat chipper when he had regaled that he had some news. Wouldn’t it have been a nice surprise if he was wanting to confess first? He did flirt with her quite a bit, and they had become damn near attached at the hip as cuddle buddies during the family sleepovers. They had even fallen asleep in each others arms without it seeming awkward when they woke up, as if it was natural.

All the signs had been there.

His news had not, in fact, been a confession. Frisk was going to go to a college overseas for a year and they didn’t need him to act as a pseudo guardian or protective ‘duncle’ while there. He was free from the stifling press conferences full of people, having to stand by just I case, because of his unique ability to teleport being crucial for escape if anything went wrong. He was relieved to have a year where he wouldn’t be forced to be around so many humans.

They had been sharing a bag of Chisps beneath the oak tree when her hand had frozen midway in the bag at his wording. Sans had continued on, not noticing his companion’s concern, too deeply steeped in his exultation as he waxed on about being away from “the kid”. Sure there was tension between them from the resets, but he had told her they had made up, that the genocide runs weren’t actually Frisk’s fault for the most part.

The poor child was both suffering from a world altering disassociation from reality, and feeling the push from a malicious entity to further drive them into that mental break. That was all on top of their horrific family life before falling into the underground. It had taken so much for Frisk to finally figure out what reality was. They and Sans had both been victims. For them both, nothing felt real. Living had no real worth. Life felt like it had no worth. When the barrier had been broken, and the monsters freed, the weight of Frisk’s actions hit them when they had seen the sun for the first time and felt its warmth. It was when they had the epiphany that they were not in fact dreaming. Their life was real. What they had done, was real.

It was Sans that had stopped Frisk from shattering their own soul in the human version of what monsters referred to as “Falling Down”.

She had felt a chilled confusion while those bright white eye lights stared up at the sky, his teeth turned up in a genuine smile that made her stomach start to hurt, and put her teeth on edge with trepidation.

He still held a grudge against Frisk. 

He ranted on about the stress of constantly having to be around the child, essentially admitting to her that he had lied to Frisk’s face about forgiving them.

It hadn’t been his only lie, as was made obvious when the stocky skeleton’s ramblings, and near manic breathless chuckles alluded to more. 

It wasn’t that he disliked crowded areas like Maggy had been lead to believe, he just didn’t feel comfortable around humans. He could never feel safe around them. Humans couldn’t be trusted, look at their history after all. Being in or near a crowd of humans made his magic roil.  
He was used to monsters. He could read them easier, and felt more in control of his life around his own kind. Monsters weren’t naturally harmful people after all. It would be refreshing to finally be able to just relax and take his time at home working on his science projects, and hanging out with his true friends. 

He had the same tone of voice of a friend sharing their happiness with another, he had even been holding her hand during the whole rant. 

The fool was unaware of how vile his words were, so focused on his supposed “relief”.

It was when she had removed her hand from his that the skeleton turned his head to look down at her, the barest worry creasing his brow bone. When she turned her head away, he called her by the sickeningly sweet pet name he always used for her, and when that didn’t work, softly whispered her given name in question.

She felt physically ill.

It was with a strained and shaky voice that she asked the question that would doom the person she had worked to build herself into, the one that had felt safe to love again.

“What about me?”

She was human too! What about her? Was she just a step away from stabbing him or his brother to dust? Was she a part of that “us vs them” mentality he had?

The bastard dug his own knife deeper into her back, a hand on her shoulder, his deep resonant voice carefully soft, full of assurances that she was different. He could depend on her being there for him. She was always available when he needed her. He appreciated that, and how kind she was to his brother. 

As if she was kind to his brother so as not to hurt the sweet heart’s feelings! She wasn’t kind to save face, or his ego, she felt fond of Papyrus for who he was! How fucked up was it that Sans had assumed that people were only nice to his brother because they didn’t want to upset the tall celebrity mascot? Did he have no faith in Papyrus’s likability? 

It hit her like a hammer to the brain. 

She was something he could lean on, not someone.

She was available.

Convenient. 

A useful tool.

Again.

“Enjoy your human free vacation.”

That was the last time she had seen him, or any of her other friends. She had gone home to pack up her old-new life, and attempt to put back together the scattered shards of her trust in herself, as well as her broken heart. 

It was back to the drawing bored. She had been taken advantage of. Again!

And so, the woman had made the decision that it would be best to make a change. If the world wouldn’t change, then she would. Screw what others thought. Screw being ‘nice’. 

Screw the ideal of self worth. Screw giving a damn about ‘family’, blood or otherwise.

Screw self sacrifice or self risk. 

She didn’t need tears. 

She threw all of her fucks to give, away in the trash where they belonged and left that city to find one far, far away from what she hoped would be her last painful life lesson. 

In the end, to subvert as much probable contention as possible, Maggy chose a city that had the smallest monster population, changed her name, her phone number, closed all personal social media accounts, and set up a new life. While she couldn’t very well abandon her store, she could continue to place orders for her materials with a little extra under the table for silence, and remove all data regarding her position in the world by attaching the business to a larger online resale company. She shipped to them, and they shipped the item to her clients. Returns worked the same way, but vice versa. 

Maggy had made a new place for a new her, and she liked who she had become.

Well, she didn’t hate herself as much in any case, and she was less of a doormat. 

She was allowed to be angry, and so what if she was a shit? She only directed it towards the people that earned it. 

The woman gave a small smile as she took a long drought of her cooled golden flower tea, feeling accomplished, if not a twinge lonely, but that’s what she had Jeff for. She would simply annoy him by being a bitch to his more asshole patrons. It was a point of pride that the amount of outright aggressive incidents and 911 calls had dwindled to near nothing during her reign of sassy terror.

She knew he appreciated it, otherwise the man would actually let her pay for her drinks once in a while. 

Life was finally turning her way.

“s…sweetie pie?”

Never mind. Life hated her. 

She opened her eyes with a frown to see a very familiar baggy blue hoody slung over a set of broad shoulders.

Fuck life.


	2. Tart not sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. These two wouldn't stop arguing in my head so, I put them here!

There are times in one’s life where wonderful events seem to happen almost as if by design, serendipitous, and then there are those where it felt as though some all mighty entity had a sick sense of humor, just waiting for that perfect moment to knock a person down, like an omnipotent toddler with a house of cards.

Magpie literally had her back to the wall, faced with the worst case scenario smiling down at her in front of a very interested crowd of whom would more than enjoy seeing their local nuisance fall apart, much like the metaphorical house of cards. 

She mused over the choices laid out in front of her of how she could react to Sans sudden, unwanted, and unexpected appearance. 

At one point in time the woman would have stammered, and tripped over herself, perhaps even jumped hard enough to knock over her cup, causing a large mess. She would have fidgeted out of anxiety, blushing so deeply a Geiger counter would have picked up on the radiated heat of her face. She would have done her best to smooth over any hurt feelings, or avoid confrontation, shame laminating her features.

That girl was long gone.

The new and improved version of herself lived for the socially unacceptable controversial moments most wanted to avoid. She had found a taste for the quick thrill, and rush that anger gave her, especially if it where justified. 

Unfortunately, the target of her ire had deep open connections to innocent, highly visible, parties that did nothing to merit the dramatic fallout if she went overboard. Thus Magpie merely clicked her tongue, not bothering to look her former friend in the eye-lights, and downed the rest of her tea. She opted to and sit placidly, completely intent on ignoring the monster’s existence, her gaze, pointedly, turned to look out the window toward the busy street.

\----- 

There she was, his Sweety-pie. Sans felt a tremulous joy in his soul as his vision raked over her form. She looked in good health at least, even if she seemed to have lost some weight, and the bruises beneath her eyes were deep enough to rival his own. Her clothing style had changed as well. Back then she hadn’t been one for high fashion, instead preferring function, but, in spite of that the woman had still worn a vibrant pallet of colors. She hadn’t been known to lean towards something like the stark black of her overcoat or the set of rust colored gloves. As he studied more of her, his old friend was missing more than the bright hues. He felt a pang in his ribcage when he noticed what had been remiss;

Her vibrant smile.

The skeleton moved a large hand to rub the back of his skull, his thick phalanges scraping over his crown. The longer he stood there waiting for any reply, the more he felt nervous, noting her silence, and lack of emotion. 

What had happened to his best friend?

What had happened to her when she had disappeared?

He could visualize that day, clear as crystal, the burning panic having scorched the memory into his mind like a brand. 

Sans and his Sweety-pie had sat under the old oak tree, like they had dozens of times before. It was his safe space to share his thoughts, and feelings. She was his safe place. He had been so overtaken by the happiness of being free, if temporarily, of his responsibilities that he had rambled for a good while. Before he could profess how happy it made him to have more free time with her, along with the other benefits of that kid being gone, she had turned her back on him. 

When she had left to walk back into her house with the parting phrase, he had intended to follow after her. He wanted to know why she was so upset. He wasn’t an idiot. He had an inkling that her reaction had something to do with his aversion to humans, but San’s had been confident that the girl would have understood, like she always had. He assumed that, with the baring of his soul, and knowing about his past, she would have offered her shoulder for him, maybe a blanket, or a hot drink. She would have consoled him, like normal, and they would talk it through. She was supposed to be his guidepost. 

The man was not prepared for her cold rebuttal, and the sharp cut to their conversation. 

Sans had made to stand to go after her, to try to reason with his friend. He wanted her to know that she was different. She was special. Unfortunately, as soon as he was on his feet, kicking a few stray leaves from his slippers, his phone rang.

Papyrus, in his own loving and loud way, had reminded his brother that he had promised to be home by then. They had plans for a certain someone’s birthday, and he was not allowed to be late. 

Sans had made such strides in maintaining the upkeep of his promises, he couldn’t break his record, not with all the work he had put into being a better brother, when the realization of the lack of reset ability had set in. 

He made the decision that he could talk to the woman the next day, telling himself that it was best to allow Magpie to cool off before bringing up the subject again. He convinced himself that it was the most mature way to go about her situation, even if that was simply an excuse to avoid having to relive the hurt he glimpse before she had left him. 

Sans had a bad habit of procrastinating, hoping that the world’s problems would solve themselves, and it had been his greatest mistake to teleport to his brother’s side that night.

When Sans had ported into an empty living room the next night, a box of her favorite sweets in his hands, he felt as though his soul would plop onto his toes. 

Gone.

His Sweety-pie was gone.

He trudged through each room in a daze, searching for a person that, deep down, he knew he would not find. Sans couldn’t remember how long he had paced through that empty building, panic, worry, and an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher, worming its way around his spine. 

It was when his brother’s ringtone broke the oppressive silence, echoing off of the dingy walls, that he had snapped awake. 

He was trembling when he told Papyrus the news.

Sans didn’t think he could have felt worse than then, but when he had returned home to report what had happened, his brother’s tears and acute questions were like needles, the more he asked his way, the more they pierced into him. 

No he didn’t know where his cooking buddy had gone. No, he didn’t think she had been abducted, otherwise her house wouldn’t have been empty. No, she never said that she was moving. No, they didn’t have an explosive fight. If her family had an emergency, they would have been the first to know. 

The brothers called her phone, but had been met with a computerized voice stating that the number was no longer in service. 

It broke his metaphorical heart when his baby brother had excused himself to his room, his fretful pacing heard muffled through the police tape decorated door, the footsteps interspersed with soft whimpers full of distress. 

For a week straight Sans was inundated with calls and texts from the others in their little circle, his brother having been the one to notify them. During one of the family dinners at the royals’ home Undyne acted accusatory, willing to interrogate anyone at the tip of her spear as to where and why their friend was missing. Was she was safe? Alphy’’s, did her best to calm the antagonistic fish woman with a hand on her arm, giving Sans a sidelong look, before ushering her mate to go have an anime marathon with her, offering to investigate further after dinner. 

Toriel and Asgore looked to one another, the usual signs of their strained relationship absent, their parental instincts in tune with one another. When prompted by the royals, Sans had given the bare-bones of when he had last seen their human, electing to omit their last conversation. He felt it wasn’t an important detail to mention something so personal. His Sweety-Pie wouldn’t have gone for something as trivial as his hang ups. She was well aware of how he had been treated by the kid, and how deeply it affected him.

Speaking of the kid, when Frisk had received the news, they didn’t way a word, not that they spoke much as it was. The young human had been stoic, nodding their head once, brows drawn together in thought. Sans had to hold himself back from taking a step away when the teen turned to him, as though scrutinizing the ex Judge, before they made an about-face to their room.

It was midnight, when he lay in his bed that Sans had received a text from Frisk that he left on read.

“What did you do?”

He hadn’t done anything! Something major must have happened for Sweety-pie to have left like she had. The woman was too level headed to do something so dramatic just because of a little uncomfortable conversation.

After some time had passed, those left behind had come to terms with the new arrangement of one less friend. Alphys, the orange lizard genius that she was, had announced that during her investigation it was apparent that Magpie was not in danger, nor was she hurt. Her business website, had begun to receive ingoing and out traffic after a month’s stall. The main page had been updated with new products, and the buyer’s agreement had changed due to a new partnership with a large resale conglomerate. That, along with the take downs of all online social medias, had pointed to their human friend not wanting to be found. The closed accounts, including banking, the dead phone number, and the lack of a digital footprint all together had been the largest tells. 

Their group of friends had wilted at the news, but the frantic nature of their worry and concern had settled into a passivity. Toriel made the statement, “If it was her decision to leave, then Maggy must have had good reason. They would be ready to welcome her back with open arms if she should ever return, but until then it would be best to give the woman the privacy that she had gone to such great lengths for. Perhaps then, when that time came, they would know why she left, but it was not their place to intrude.” 

It was the royal matriarchal side of her that had spoken the proclamation, but no one missed the defeated look in the motherly goat’s eyes. 

Magpie was a part of their family. It was always painful, to feel abandoned.

Since then Frisk hadn’t bothered to say a word to Sans, nor did they text him on the daily like they used to.

Sans assumed that the kid blamed him for the whole fiasco, which irritated the skeleton. What would they know? Not everything was his fault.

Even so, that didn’t stop the monster from obsessing. He may not have had the same hacking prowess that Alphys wielded, but he could be tenacious when he wanted to be. 

He had done so much work, pleaded, threatened, bribed, and finally he had found her, in that small café’, on a whim of all things. He had found what city the woman had gone to, but it had been a stroke of luck when Sans had come into the shop with a hankering for caffeine. 

He had practiced what he would say to her, but now that he had found her, Sans was at a loss. He wanted to demand answers, more than anything, yet in that moment, surrounded by a crowd of humans, thousands of miles away from home, Sans didn’t know what to say other than call out to her. 

Why wasn’t she saying anything?! 

Surely she had missed him too! 

Right?

\----

Minutes passed, and he was still there, blocking her escape from that cramped corner, as so many eyes stared on in their direction. It became apparent to magpie that the fool wouldn’t take the obvious hint that she didn’t want to talk to him. The fact that Sans had found her certainly raised more than one red flag, considering how far she had gone to become a ghost, and hopefully remain one. The longer the oaf crowded her corner, the more she felt the itch of irritation wriggle beneath her skin. Fine. If he wanted interaction, then she would be gracious to give it. It would be his own damn fault if the man didn’t like what type it would be. 

She didn’t miss the lift in his shoulders or the sharpening of his eye lights in her peripheral when she blew out a long aggravated breath. The guy was practically on the edge of his seat, if he were sitting that was. The man obsessed with control no longer had the ball in his court, and to her delight, was firmly in her grasp. If all went well, she would be able to throw the damn thing so far out of the court that he would finally give up the ghost and leave her be.

Maggy held back a smirk at her own internal pun, instead opting to twist her lips into a scowl when she turned her head toward the hulking figure of her disdain. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Sans blinked, taken aback by the venom in her otherwise smooth voice, “Well, I uh…” 

She raised a brow at him as he stammered, but allowed the skeleton to continue in his fluster.

“I, just, uh, how, how have ya’ been sweety-“

“No!”

Sans leaned back in shock at the outburst that had cut him off.

“My name is _Magpie_.” She stressed the nickname, condescension thick on her tongue, “I’m not sweet, nor am I a confectionary.”

He attempted her given name, only to be met with the same hostility.

“You don’t get to call me that either. The only people who can call me by my birth name are my family. Not you. Not anyone else.” The woman stood to her full height, still needing to tilt her head to lock gazes with him. “Now answer my question. Why are you **here**? What brought you all the way out here Sans?”

What in the stars had happened to her? Sans blinked dumbly, before shoving his large hands deep into his hoody pockets. “Well, I had some work in the area and wanted some coffee, so, here we are?” It wasn’t a complete lie. Finding her had been a lot of work. 

He winced at her incredulous expression. Magpie crossed her arms, and with a huff answered, “That’s utter horse shit and you know it.” Before he could get another word in, she waved him off with a hand, and reached for her empty cup with the other. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You want something to drink? Go get it, but leave me the fuck alone.” She proceeded to shimmy her way around the table but stopped when the skeleton took a step to the side, effectively body blocking her exit, leaving her cornered. 

Sans felt the instinctual need to move back from the seething glare the human unleashed toward him, the monster sensing the beginnings of harmful intent, much like how one could feel the onset of a storm via a subtle shift in the air, but refused to budge. He refused to allow the chance he had to slip through his phalanges. “Come on now. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other. Can’t we Ketchup a bit?” He gestured to a ketchup bottle on a table nearby, his ever-present smile twitching as a bead of nervous magic arched its way down the side of his skull.

Was he seriously trying to trap her? Did he actually think that it was alright to practically hold her against her will like that? The entitled bastard was trying to get his way through forcefully keeping her there in the corner. In some places that would be considered false imprisonment. Did he actually think that she would give up and cower to his size, and acquiesce to his demands? Oh Hell no. He was no predator and she certainly wasn’t prey.

Not any more.

“I said move Sans.”

He lowered his brow bones, teeth set into a stubborn line, and refuted her with a curt, “No.”

Fine. He could stand there all day if he wanted, but she was not about to be held hostage. “Have it your way then.” At that Magpie firmly set one boot onto the stool to lift herself, and used the other on the table to vault to the side of the foolhardy monster.

Of course, Jeff had seen her little display, barking out a, “Feet off the table!”

“Sorry Jeff!” Magpie called back, her grin returning, only for it to fall when she felt a firm grip on her elbow and a very familiar brush of static like magic against her chest. There was no time to reconsider what she was about to do as righteous fury overrode her ability to think, her body reacting on its own. With swiftness born by wrath, the woman twisted herself in the monsters hold, and bore her paper cup high only then to plunge the narrow end into his left eye socket with an animalistic snarl. 

The vicious discomfort of having a foreign object lodged into his skull would have been bad enough, but to have it be while his Judgment "eye" was active was a whole new level of sensation that Sans would have happily lived without ever knowing. He grunted, and released the woman to cup his eye with both hands, his mind dizzy with the backlash of magical interruption, and thoughts fragmented with the need to, “Get it out, get it out, get it out!”

He lost his balance, stepping back from his “attacker” and landed against the window, before ripping out the offending cup. He had to take a moment to blink away the blur in his vision, and allow the buzzing in his magic to wind down before he could asses the situation.

While the skeleton was busy dealing with his little cup dilemma, Magpie had found herself facing her own with the crowd. After escaping San’s hold she had turned to flee but was met with two opposing factions of people. Some had their phones out, pointed at the monster in the corner, their sickening sneers complimenting the disgusting speciest rhetoric they where spewing to their “viewers” as they filmed the “monster on human violence.”

On the other end, there were people of whom faced her with frowns, and scathing words. How dare she harm the poor fellow! He only wanted to talk! She attacked him! She was a racist and should be ashamed of herself. They never liked her.

It was all a cacophonous din of nonsense and selfishness that made Maggy’s frayed line of patience snap. 

“ **SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!** ” 

She would have been surprised at herself for being able to outdo Papyrus himself in volume, but the woman was in no mood to muse about it. She was pissed off, wanting to go home, but no, people had to be shit.

She raked her gaze over the silent crowd, before quickly taking advantage of the shock before anyone else could, “Mind your own fucking business! You!” She pointed to the ones filming, “Yeah, point that shit this way. Hope your fucking streaming so your viewers can get this raw. I” She jabbed a thumb into her chest, “Am not some fucking victim that you can use for your political shit talking. Mind your own damn business. And you!” She thrust a hand at those that had admonished her, “Same thing! Just because we’re separate races doesn’t mean we can’t have relationship problems! Fuck off with your white knighting. We’re in a damn coffee shop. Get your shit and get out, but for the love of stars leave me out of it! Damn nosy Nancy’s are the problem.” 

She threw up her hands with a gruff snarl, turned on her heel, and opened the shop door with more aggression than was necessary, only to freeze when someone muttered the term “Monster Fucker”. 

She chuffed a sharp laugh, “What’s wrong? Jealous, or are you just too scared to try it? Fukken pussy.”, and stomped her way out onto the street and into the cold. She would apologize to Jeff later. Hopefully Sans wouldn’t read too much into her tirade. Her sex life, even if it was barren, was not a topic on any table. She merely said what she had to make a point. 

It had been at least five minutes of Magpie trudging along the busy sidewalk, on her way to nowhere in particular, that she had the sense of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, yet again, another unfortunately familiar sensation. It was a good bet that Sans was somewhere nearby, either waiting for his chance to catch her off guard, or possibly to find where she lived. Well, he would be left wanting, because she had no intention of allowing him nowhere near her address. At the nearest intersection she turned a sharp left, passing through a gate, and into one of the less kept areas. 

The city had two modes, rich or poor. It where as though someone had drawn a line down the middle, the changes were so jarring. Behind her had been beauty boutiques, upscale bookstores that sold mostly college texts, and cute little coffee shops. In front of her the street had become filled with trash, the alleyways sporting the living detritus of society, many not bothering to hide the needles in their arms. Many buildings proudly sported the art of graffiti, and shops all had thick iron bars over their windows. There were far less people milling about in that area, but those that did brave the winter sun, followed her with dull eyes, some only mildly curious, and others outright distrustful, with hands clenched in ratty jean pockets, or inside thick body line obscuring coats. 

Magpie paid them no mind, nodding to one or two as she passed, earning her one in return after a quick once over. The people in that area of town knew immediately what person was just another lost pansy, or something else, something like them. Having a certain body language, coupled with eye contact, was enough to relay the message that one should not be messed with, and knew exactly where they were going.

Where she was going hadn’t been too far, as after a small stint, Magpie found herself at the business side of a peer, the place full of rusted shipping containers, and smelling of rotted fish with a hint of tobacco. It was there that she shifted her direction into an alley between two ancient brick buildings that had once been used as warehouses, now abandoned. 

Once she had sat herself on a crate and fished out a cigarette, it had taken no time for Sans to reveal himself to her, stepping literally, out of thin air.

Magpie crossed one leg over the other as she lit the end of her tobacco stick, blowing a white cloud toward the much less accommodating looking monster. She felt a bit of pride seeing his face devoid of his usual smile, a frown in it’s place, his white eye lights sharp. When he spoke, it was with a growl so low and deep, she felt it in her chest. “Wanna’ tell me what that was all about?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the dirty brick wall, uncaring at what sort of filth could rub off on his jacket.

Maggy titled her head to give him a look, and took another drag of the bitter-tasting smoke, “Nope, but how about you keep your Pervo’ vision to yourself next time huh?” She jabbed the glowing cherry in his direction, her scowl as deep as his voice, “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. You may have the powers of The Judge, but that doesn’t give you the right to creep on the most intimate part of me you sick fuck.”

“I was just checking on yo-“

She interrupted him, “For LV you mean.” Magpie snorted, “Stop with the excuses Sans. They’ve never worked out for you before and they won’t now. There’s no excuse for what’s practically sexual assault.”

“You’ve changed. What happened to you? Your not my Sweety-pie anymore…”

She may have softened towards the idiot from the soft concern in his hushed tone, but his phrasing, oh, that unfortunate phrasing, set her off. “I am who I am Sans. I’m not _your_ anything. You don’t own me. No one owns me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what’s with the stalking?”

“I wasn’t-“

“Stop lying!” Maggy threw a wadded up newspaper that she had found at the man, the trash bouncing harmlessly off of him. “I know for a fucking fact that there’s no place here that would have work for you! It has the lowest monster population and no tourist appeal! There is no pie here for the royals, or the brother of the famous monster mascot to have their mitts on! It’s just another small, might as well be, nameless city. Your story holds no water.”

She bit down on the filter of her cigarette in agitation when he laughed, that baritone chuckle still having enough of an effect to make her soul quiver. He grinned, his posture turning into a slouch as his eye lights stared directly into her. “Well, there is _one_ pie.”

“Fuck off.”

“Not without you.”

It was a good thing she had decided to find the most secluded area with the most uncaring populace to have their conversation, because her resulting slew of cursing would have burned even the most seasoned sailors’ ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans: (makes flirty sex joke)
> 
> Maggy: I'm going to end this man's career. (Throws a fit instead)


	3. Meringue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one was a bit of a rush. I've been trying to cut the fat, so to speak, when it comes to my usual lengthy af background stuff and large chapters based around aesthetics. 
> 
> So, yeah, may come off more as a ramble.

Sans waited patiently as the woman unleashed her verbal tirade against him, a bone brow arched. When the slew of verbal garbage finally slowed its avalanche of angst to a stop the pair were left to stare at each other, one panting, the other mildly irritated, amused, and confused.

“Ya’ done?” Sans tilted his head at her. 

Magpie gave a derisive snort, tucking a few stray strands of hair back that had become loose during her tirade. “Not even remotely.” She placed a hand over her face and turned her eyes sky ward as if asking the heavens for patience before leveling her narrowed gaze at the skeleton, “Do you even think before you speak? I swear. First you try to sneak a peek at my soul without consent and then you think it’s a bright idea to start spouting sexual come backs?”

Sans, ignoring his better nature, snickered with a muttered, “heh, ‘cum back.”

“Seriously?! What are you, twelve?” Magpie huffed, and flicked her spent cigarette at the man, uncaring that the cherry was still lit. She felt a twisted bit of mirth when he hurriedly danced away from the ember, the glowing butt passing him to land in a puddle of suspiciously colored liquid with a tiny hiss.

Sans looked from the puddle then back to her, “You actually tryna’ burn me here? Cause you’ve done that already Sweetheart,” His growl cut her off when she opened her mouth to argue, “and I ain’t about ta’ keep lettin’ it slide.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your so dramatic.”

“Says the human that shoved their cup in my eye, and tried ta’ catch me on fire.”

Maggy shrugged, wholly unbothered, “The cup was self defense in the wake of your bad behavior.” She jabbed a gloved finger at him, “ Consent Sans! Do you need a dictionary upside that dome of yours to understand it? As for the cig’ well,” Her smirk was smug, “That was for my own amusement.”

Sans’ eye sockets narrowed at her, “You’ve gotten mean.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m honest.”

“You tryin’ a dig at me human?” Oh he was starting to lose it. The longer they conversed in that alley, it was obvious the less control Sans was keeping on his anger.

Magpie’s grin sharpened, “Careful, your mask is slipping.”

He blinked, taken aback, before grimacing. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Just tell me,” He paused and looked away from her, all of that earlier ire seeming to drain away to reveal a tired man beneath it all. “Why did you leave?”

Magpie regarded him for a moment, unsure of whether to trust her old friend’s sudden change from intimidating mass of magic, to sad soft pillow of a man. Sure emotions had been running high for both parties, but she wasn’t heartless, and that was the problem. All she had wanted was to be left alone. Her plan had to become just another memory in time of a person that he and the others once knew. She sighed, and shifted enough on the crate to lift her knee to rest a cheek on. 

“You sure you want to know? It’s not going to be pretty.”

Sans perked up with a nod. “Yeah. I don’t care. Just tell me.”

“You won’t leave me the fuck alone otherwise, so sure, I’ll tell you.” Magpie’s stared seemed to go right through him, “It’s because of you.”

“Wha’? But-!”

She made a slicing motion with her free hand in the air, “You wanted to know so shut the fuck up and listen.” When his teeth clicked shut, she continued, “Do you have any idea how controlling and manipulative you are? For fuck’s sake, look at what you did in the coffee shop. Trying to trap me when it was obvious that I didn’t want to talk, and then having the gal to actually grab me? What in the Stars were you thinking?!” He had the grace to wince, “So going off of that let’s get to the red flags I ignored back when we were _besties_.” She gave air quotes for the childish term, “You always had a habit of lying to everyone, even your brother, then would turn around to tell me all about it, expecting for me to keep your secrets. When Papyrus was worried about you, he would ask me questions but I kept my mouth shut. I tried to help you, gave you sound advice, and information on monster friendly therapists. I was an idiot to think you were just having a hard time, and just needed someone for support. Who knew that support meant I was supposed to just hold your large bony butt up by myself.”

“That’s what friends are supposed ta’ do though.”

Magpie closed her mouth and stared at him until Sans understood that if he was going to interrupt, then she would stop speaking. After a minute had passed, she continued on.

“Yeah, friends support each other. It’s both ways. I _had_ thought that our positions were equal but, while you did listen to my woes, and about my horrible history, you would then divert the conversation somewhere else, or back to yourself. I mad the excuse for you that you just weren’t good with comforting others, even when I saw you do it for Toriel after she and Asgore fought. Once again I made the excuse that it was because you had been friends with her far longer than me.” 

Magpie gave a sad laugh, no longer keeping eye contact with Sans, “Then there were all the times you would just pop up at my house. You never gave a heads up, always expecting my attention, even if you knew I was about to go to bed or sleeping. Heck, there were even a few times you woke me up to go star-gazing. I didn’t complain. Once again I thought about your past, and your nightmares, so I allowed you to constantly walk over my boundaries. I went along on outings, even when I was exhausted of people, many of them those damn major political events where you made my anxiety an excuse to run off somewhere away from the crowd yourself.” 

It was during a brief pause that she gave a dark chuckle. “Come to find out that your brand of social anxiety was just speciesism.” She sent him a hollow smile. “I made for the perfect excuse.”

Sans desperately wanted to refute her claims, his want to touch her, to comfort her, strong enough that he had to shove his hands as deep into his hoody pockets as he could. Any anger the monster was brewing, was doused, replaced by that unfamiliar-familiar feeling he had before when the monster had walked through her empty house. It left a lump in his magic where his throat would be. 

“After your confession about Frisk leaving, I didn’t know what to do at first. I was a mess, the perfect storm of negative feelings inside me made my head fuzzy.”, He grit his teeth when her tone had devolved into something empty, as though the woman where just retelling a story she had heard once. 

“So I went back into the house. I was angry and hurt, but at first I didn’t know why. After a few hours of thinking about it. I couldn’t ignore the signals anymore. You lied to me more than once. You lied to Frisk. To all of us. You did it so easily, with a smile on your face. I trusted you, and I thought you trusted me too. Frisk trusted you. They had hung so much of their hope on your forgiveness and understanding that they didn’t mean to be cruel. Between Chara’s influence, and their full mental break from reality, they were falling apart under their own misplaced guilt and the pressures of all of monster kinds’ future on their small shoulders. A child, and they were fighting difficult battles that adults would be hard pressed to survive, even after the barrier broke.”

It was then her gaze met his once again, shimmering from withheld emotions, “They were a child, and still are. They did their best to make up for things that are hard enough to understand but they had to alone, so they turned to the only one they knew that had an inkling of what it was like to be broken by and from, reality. Even after all the times you had killed them, they never once blamed you for it, instead they begged their killer for help.”

He was crushed. Sans, grit his teeth as droplets of magic dripped down the sides of his skull. He wanted to argue with her, to say that he had every right to feel the way he did, that the kid was a little demon that could snap at any moment. They could be smiling one moment and then slicing a person up the next. All humans had that ability to be two faced. He couldn’t ignore that fact, but he held himself back, knowing there was more around the corner, that strange emotion he had no name for weighing his limbs down into inaction.

“That enough hurt to know. I wanted to yell at you so much for being a hypocrite, but then I began to remember my own past. That’s when I revisited what you told me, and what our friendship had actually been. A lot of instances lined up with all those relationships I had. You know the ones. The people that took advantage of me, and manipulated me? You didn’t have a need for money, but damn I was convenient still huh? I realized too, that you offered to help me with my business only after I mentioned that it was probably the best idea to move back in with my parents. Funny that, the reason I pretty much idolized you as a great person, blinded by so much gratitude, the real reason for your charity passed right over my ignorant head. You were about to lose out on the ability to just have me whenever you wanted. “

She took a shuddering breath, a tear escaping, “When you said I was different from other humans, it felt like you had stabbed me right in the soul. If you ignored my humanity, then what did you think I was? Well, you told me yourself. I was always there. I was convenient. “

She wiped her eyes, the steel returning to her spine as Magpie’s sorrow hardened back into that pain fueled anger she had been riding on before, only, more calm. “I was convenient. I was useful. I was easy. I was a lot of things, but a whole ass person? Nah, you ignored the parts you didn’t like and expected easy access to the rest.”

“That’s why ya’ left? But what about leaving every one else?” Sans asked his voice strained, and tone hushed.

Magpie shrugged listlessly, “Honestly I was a wreck. I panicked. I couldn’t trust myself anymore. I couldn’t trust my judgment in people again. My world was cracked open after healing from the same old traumas that you invoked. I did what, at the time, I felt was the safest. Considering your brother’s celebrity status, and the royal family, it wouldn’t do for anyone even remotely connected to the press, or anti-monster groups, get a whiff of the fact that the Judge was a racist. All of us would have been hounded by twisted bastards sniffing around for a story. That stress and chaos would be detrimental to your people’s social and political standing, so it was better not to risk any drama by making it as though I had never been there in the first place.”

Sans’, shoulders slumped low, but something still didn’t sit right. A guy like him, one that was just as dishonest as she claimed, knew when someone wasn’t being completely forthright. “I can see that, but, that could all a’ been taken care of in-house. I know ya’ Sweet- uh, Maggy,” He coughed into a closed hand, even if he had no throat to clear, “Given some time, you would’ve found a way to deal with all that. You never made snap life changing decisions before. Ya’ always thought everything through.”

Magpie snickered, a mean sound full of self loathing, “Yeah, that’s because I had fallen in love with you. I figured it out months before I left. There’s no way to “think out” a heartbreak, so” The woman stood, dusting off her pants and coat, “I broke away from my old life instead. I got tired of being a weak little bitch. I decided that I was not an easy mark anymore. I took up the mantra of ‘Fuck It’ and here I am.”

She had been in love with him? 

Sans stared blankly at the human before him. While she was smaller than he, her metaphorical sucker punch had him reeling. 

He then understood what that odd feeling was;

Guilt. 

He had been feeling guilty for years, he had just been ignoring it because it was easier, much like the fact that Maggy was human. 

“Shit.” He hissed under his breath, eye lights shrinking to pinpricks as he stared down at her almost with a look of fear. 

She only nodded. “Yep. Shit indeed.”

Maggy patted his arm as she passed him to make her way back to the open peer. “I’m not expecting you to change Sans, so don’t you expect me to be that girl you knew. She isn't coming back. I’m done being people’s little support pet. It was about time I understood that my worth wasn’t something to be earned or bought through other people's perceptions. Guess I should thank you for the wake up call. You got what you wanted, so go home.”

Sans turned slowly, hearing her words but not wanting to understand them with every fiber of his being, watching glumly as his only human friend, or, ex-friend, strode away from him into the mist that rolled off of the salty waters. 

He could barely process the information dump she had waylaid him with, but, as his mind mulled over what it could, Sans found himself unable to refute everything. 

A blue glowing tear made a thick track down his cheek. 

That was closure. It was her final goodbye. He felt the intent of her words deep in his bones.

It was too bad that somewhere tucked into the corner of his cracked white soul, a small voice whispered that he loved her too. The voice had finally made it to him, after years of repression. 

He was forced to listen to it, fully knowing that he had ignored his own attachment to her because she was, indeed, human. 

They were both a mess, and not perfect, but if he had listened a bit more intently when his Sweety-pie had been weeping into his jacket on those nights where she bore her traumas, maybe then things would have been different.

Maybe then he would have gone to therapy when his friends had begged, if anything for a chance to have a future with his best friend.

The one of whom had returned his feelings;

but not any more.

Maybe, it was time he gave the kid a call, have the long talk that both of them needed. 

Hopefully he could mend that particular bridge before it was nothing but ashes. 

Therapy had never sounded better to him before. 

“Guess I should clean up before Pap’s sees me.” He looked down at the wet spots that dotted the front of his shirt. He just couldn’t seem to scrub away the tears. For once, his brother could wait as Sans attempted to pull himself together. 

He had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans is told everything straight out and he has problems processing.


	4. Dragon Fruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Text happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if time doesn't heal all wounds, it can make them easier to bear.
> 
> It also leaves a long path walked to be looked back on.

**Unknown** : hey. uh. i kno u prbly dun wana hear frm me, but…..

 **Unknown** : (someone is typing)

 **Unknown** : ……

 **Unknown** : (someone is typing)

 **Unknown** :……

 **Prickly-pear** : Oh my stars Sans just spit it out!

 **Prickly-pear** : And quit with that text speak sh**. I may be able to speak a tiny bit of Spanish, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy translating.

 **Bonehead** : Sry but dat.

 **Prickly-pear** : no you’re f****** not. You’re definitely taking the p***.

 **Bonehead** : heh. can’t help it. it was too easy.

 **Prickly-pear** : Why do you keep forcing all lower case?

 **Bonehead** : what do ya mean?

 **Pickly-pear** : Aight then. I’m blocking you if you’re going to be a little shit. Also, being a stalker.

 **Prickly-pear** : Again.

 **Bonehead** : Wait!

 **Bonehead** : I’m not trying to harass you or anything and I didn’t stalk this time I promise! And you know how I am about promises! Well, now at least!

 **Prickly-pear:** Then explain how you just so happen to have my number, that just so happens to also be unlisted. If you didn’t data mine or some other computer Bull sh**.

 **Bonehead** : Uh. Sorry but I made a promise not ta tell.

 **Prickly-pear** : It was Jeff wasn’t it?

 **Bonehead** : …..

 **Prickly-pear** : When?

 **Bonehead** : Um….after the alley? I went back to get that coffee and he just threw a cup at me with the number! I swear!

 **Prickly-pear** : Yeah. That sound like him. He’s got suspiciously good aim with paper cups. It’s crazy.

 **Bonehead** : He got me in the same eye socket.

 **Prickly-pear** : Okay, now that’s funny.

 **Bonehead** : har har.

 **Prickly-pear** : So if you had my number all this time, like what 8 months, why are you trying to talk to me now? I thought I was clear.

 **Bonehead** : Well, I’ve been going to a therapist, and Frisk told me I needed to do this.

 **Prickly-pear** : So you had a heart to heart, I’m guessing.

 **Bonehead** : Yeah. It was rough.

 **Prickly-pear** : Good for you on getting therapy.

 **Bonehead** : Thanks.

 **Bonehead** : I’m sorry.

 **Prickly-pear** : (someone is typing)

 **Bonehead** : For everything.

 **Prickly-pear** : …..

 **Bonehead** : I was horrible how I treated every one. I was running away from anything that would “burst my depression bubble” (Kiddo’s words), and by trying not to feel too much, or get into situations that would make me actually see myself, I made terrible, stupid mistakes.

 **Bonehead** : I didn’t mean to use you. I just, sorta….no, I allowed myself to take you for granted, and used you as a band-aid for my bad habits. I had all the wrong coping mechanisms, and I knew it, but I pushed it down, like everything else.

 **Bonehead** : I told everyone at a family meeting what had happened, and why ya’ left.

 **Bonehead** : *you

 **Bonehead** : I’m not asking for forgiveness. That’s something I have to earn, if there even is a chance. I just want to tell you how sorry I am, and how ashamed.

 **Bonehead** : I’m working every day to get better, and to do better. I owe you a lot, not just for sticking with me, but for not calling the cops on me at the coffee shop.

 **Bonehead** :…….

 **Bonehead** :Thank you for everything. For all the things I didn’t deserve, and for calling me out. Thank you for thinking of my bro, our friends, and about monsters in general when I was just being a narcissist thinking only about me.

 **Bonehead** : You deserved better.

 **Bonehead** : I uh, don’t know what else ta say really. Just felt like ya deserved ta know.

(3 minutes ago)

 **Bonehead** : Okay. Um. Don’t worry. I won’t try to contact you any more. This is the last time. I hope everything works out for you, and that you find better friends than me. Hopefully more like you. Generous and patient.

 **Bonehead** : Take care Maggy.

 **Prickly-pear** : F***’s sake. Cry me a river why don’t you?

 **Bonehead** : I deserve that.

 **Prickly-pear** : You sound like a soggy rag that was forgotten at the bottom of the laundry basket.

 **Prickly-pear** : You know you’re not the only one that should apologize right?

 **Bonehead** : ??

 **Prickly-pear** : While I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you like I did before, I can recognize ( after the fact >>; Like way after) that I didn’t exactly act my best either.

 **Prickly-pear** : You were right. I could have stayed and tried to work things out instead of running away. Broken heart or not, looking back, I hurt a lot of people.

 **Prickly-pear** : After you left, I went looking back at the crew’s media pages. (You really should talk to them about updating their privacy settings). I read so many messages, and stories that showed how they felt betrayed. No one outright said anything about me leaving, but I noticed some things. Toriel stopped posting her baking videos. Alphys did a lot of depressing vague posting. Undyne’s page was banned before I could even read what she had to say. Frisk switched to just posting random cat memes and only replied to comments with smile emoji’s. Asgore’s page went from flowers to going full political with updates on current events, his hopes for a new bill, and then explaining in detail about the bill. It was like a page devoted to his work as King.

 **Prickly-pear** : Papyrus stopped posting for over a month. Even though he now posts pictures, and his normal uplifting quotes, he hasn’t made a video since the day I left.

 **Prickly-pear** : For as long as I spent with you all, I can read between the lines and can make an educated guess as to what kind of damage I did by leaving like that.

 **Prickly-pear** : They felt like I abandoned them, didn’t they?

 **Bonehead** : They don’t blame you…

 **Prickly-pear** : They deserved better from me too.

 **Bonehead** : They forgive you.

 **Bonehead** : I just miss you.

 **Bonehead** : Sorry….

 **Bonehead** : I do miss you though, even the new you.

 **Bonehead** : Gotta’ admit, that feisty flare ya’ got goin’ on is kinda hot.

 **Prickly-pear** : You really had to go there.

 **Bonehead** : I made a vow to try ta be more honest. So I’m bein honest.

 **Prickly-pear** : Riiiight.

 **Bonehead** : ….um,

 **Prickly-pear** : What.

 **Bonehead** : I know you wanted to cut us all off, but, do you think there could be a sliver of chance you could at least drop a line to the others? My bro really misses you.

 **Bonehead** : When you’re ready of course! No pressure! I’m not trying to guilt trip you!

 **Prickly-pear** : ……

 **Prickly-pear** That’s a soft maybe.

(1 minute ago)

 **Prickly-pear** : I miss them too.

 **Prickly-pear** : a lot.

 **Bonehead** : If ya decide to visit, lemme know and I’ll make myself scarce.

 **Prickly-pear** : Eh. If…and I do mean IF, I decided to visit home again, I probably won’t chuck trash at you if we happen to see each other.

 **Bonehead** : That would be great! I mean, if you happen to be in town.

 **Prickly-pear** : I guess I might miss you too……but don’t read too much into that.

 **Bonehead** : k

 **Prickly-pear** : You’re wearing a sh** eating grin right now. I just know it.

 **Bonehead** : I plead the 5th.

 **Prickly-pear** : uh huh.

 **Bonehead** : So, just to be clear, you’re not going ta block me?

 **Prickly-pear** : Stay on your best behavior and we’ll see.

 **Bonehead** : You’re sweet as pie.

 **Prickly-pear** : Shove your puns up your coccyx.

 **Bonehead** : Bet yer smilin’

 **Prickly-pear** : Oh look how shiny this block button is and me being a wee curious Magpie. They like shiny things you know.

 **Bonehead** : alright, alright, but I gotta’ ask.

 **Prickly-pear** : Whaaaat

 **Bonehead** : Why’re ya’ censorin’ yerself?

 **Prickly-pear** : ……..because

 **Bonehead** : ……..

 **Bonehead** : …………….

 **Bonehead** : ………………………………………

 **Bonehead** : Lemme guess. You accidentally messed with the settings and can’t figure out how to turn it back huh?

 **Prickly-pear :** F*** you and the F******* horse you road in on you a** less A***. ******!

 **Bonehead** : Lol Need some help?

 **Prickly-pear** : No.

 **Prickly-pear** : Stop laughing and being smug.

 **Bonehead** : How do you know that? Are you the one stalking me know? Oh how the tables’ve turned. ;D

_(Bonehead’s nick name has been changed to HeadA**)_

**HeadA**** : ur gna be the death of me. XD

 **Prickly-pear** : I take back the not throwing trash at you.

 **HeadA**** : I’ll happily live with that.


End file.
